Death's Acquaintance
by typicalRAinbow
Summary: "Non Timetis Messor." Sadly enough, even witches die. Young and old, even middle aged. And one day Death comes to Cackles Academy, to be greeted like an old friend. A three part story. *Re edits in process*
1. Beginning

Death's acquaintance  
>3 part story. Sadly, Even Witches die, Young and old. So Death will come to Cackles Academy. Well eventually.<p>

A/N: Maybe Cackles is on The Disc, who knows. A story in three parts beginning middle and end. Well for the moment. Or When I finish the next bit I'll edit it into a great big one-shot. Much as I'd like to right an epic as long as the Discworld and The Worst Witch combines for now it's staying yay long. Bit Dark sorry. I've also the horrible feeling I've gotten several details wrong but reading though I can't place whereabouts so feel free to point.  
>Characters belong to Jill Murphy (plus the writers for TV series) and Terry Pratchett and I hope I do them justice. Enjoy…<p>

* * *

><p>Had anyone else seen the girl there they might wept or run screaming for help. But no one else had entered in the now locked room for what must have been a long time. The girl herself had been crying, possible in pain although she'd given up calling for help. She lay there alone, cold and tired, almost broken on the stone floor, eyes still streaming, her limbs at painfully funny angles and wondered whether her mind was playing tricks on her as someone steeped out of the shadows towards her.<p>

She wouldn't have been able to see him if not for his eerie other worldly glow. He dressed a clock that emulated darkness and shadows, buckled with a silver clasp at the neck. At his side he carried a scythe its blade so thin it was almost see-though but looked sharp enough to cut though diamonds and mountains like butter. By the light reflected off the blade she could underneath the hood, was a skull. He was, as it were, a skeleton.

She didn't seem surprised to see him. The fact she could see him and hadn't questioned why he hadn't used the door surprised him.  
>"So-" she croaked, testing her voice "- are you-?"<p>

_YES._ His silent voice echoed loudly in her head. There was a pause before she spoke again.

"Am I going to- to …?"

The young witch left the sentence unfinished. Death didn't answer.

By now the reaper was at her side, carefully moving so as not to stand on her long hair that fanned haphazardly matted with dark liquid about her, as though that would cause her more discomfort, his sheer seven foot height exaggerated by the poor girls worms eye view of the world. Deep brown eyes gazed back at up him, unshed tears leaking from the comers of her eyes and ran sideways down her face. Almost defiantly she tried to swipe at them with her better arm, still watching him. She was young, little older then ten perhaps thirteen at a push but this child's soul was aged beyond her years.

Not only had she landed badly from such a long fall, (gravity undecided whether to be on her back front or side so had let the body agree to disagree) but something possibly glass had cut into her still paling skin, its colour draining as her blood pooled about her mixing with what ever had been in the bottles she'd been carrying, the useless arm snaked about it's cracked neck. To accompany the image was the sound track, shallow hissing breathes like geriatric smoker, suggesting the girl only had one lung working and even that was at half capacity doing overtime on a late shift for minimum wage.

In short, she didn't look at all well.

Raising his head from the girl Death looked about him and his surrounding. The place was large. Tall wide, dark dank and underground. In front of them; the staircase which the girl had obviously had her tragic encounter with gravity and hit every stone step on the way. The door at the top had been closed behind her on her trip and let no light though, and there were no windows or light source bar the unlit candle brackets and that of his own. The cellar was filled with shelves and the shelves where filled with neat rows and rows of glass, all labeled and of all shapes sizes and possibly colours though it was unable to tell what they where as everything appeared an inky black. It reminded him of his domain, only with bottles rather then time pieces. All it was missing was the sound of draining sands.

_WHERE ARE WE?_  
>"The potion stores. She pushed me." the girl hiccuped unnerved by the silence, and the way Death's light was bounding off the jars making her vision swim. "I think it was an accident-" but she started but that was all she could mange. Even though she was sure it hadn't been planned it didn't explain why she'd just been left there. Particularly by a member of staff. Hardly the dignified way to go, she thought bitterly. She remembered the tutor had her sent down to the dungeon store and must supposedly have been locked in as some form of twisted test or a joke but she'd run back up the stairs faster then expected. There'd been a scuffle and then-<p>

"Mr Grim, Sir, -it hurts. Can you- make it stop. Please?"

It was impossible to read Death's expression. Well it's hard to read any ones expressions when they've no lips eyebrows or even muscles but despite his fixed grin she was sure room had darkened a little as the pinpricks of blue light in the eye sockets narrowed for a moment then widened his head tipped to one side in an almost pitying way. In pity for her and humanity.

She wished he hadn't. Everything else hurt she'd didn't want to leave need a ruddy great bruise on her pride as well. Only the weak were pitied and pity was patronizing. She didn't want to die like this.

In a last ditch attempt to make her self look halfway presentable for Death her crossed her arm in across her chest. Frustrated the other wouldn't comply, she carried on as dignified as she could, her working fingers aching slowly in to an odd gesture. He copied her hand signal, turning his bones this way and that before his face, curious to its meaning. The child had screwed her eyes up tight and now murmured something, jargon, but it caused waning sparks flickered at her finger tips.

_LATIN?_ The reaper mused, watching her.

She nodded and attempted to straiten herself out. It seemed to hurt to do so, but as the spell worked its magic she seemed to become more sure of herself. Her uniform becoming freshly pressed, her face and scraped knees where cleaned while her wavy mass of dark curls magically brushed them selves free of blood and slimy potion. the blue light bouncing off her hair reminding Death of underwater torch light made seaweed dance at the bottom of the ocean he'd once seen, although he hadn't stopped to admire it long, what with that client having being tied to a cannon ball and thrown over board.

Susan had had hair like that when she was younger, he thought as the curls began of there own accorded to weave and braid them selves almost merrily into a long scalp tight plait. Only white.

The magic completed the girl opened her eyes and looked up expectantly at the skeleton. Death agreed and raised his Scythe. Time to go. At least now with a little more dignity. It seemed fitting her last words where to be a spell, even if it was something as trivial as one to sort her appearance.

_SORRY. YOU MAY WISH TO CLOSE YOUR EYES AGAIN._ The child complied. She heard a humming swish of the blade as it cut though the air above her, a cool welcome breeze across her. She imagined what it would feel to be a soul separated from it's body and suddenly there where faint voices up above getting slowly louder and the girl wondered if she'd ascended to the heavens and the voices she heard where the voices of angels. Angels with screeching laughs, who gossiped and used slang. Maybe she'd gone to hell then. Certainly sounded like it. But its cold and she couldn't smell any brimstone or sulfur. Just damp.

_ODD._  
>She blinked. She was still on the floor although the pain seemed to have subsided some what. A lot in fact. As if some one had turned the flame down on the gas stove. Not numb just, not there. Was this good or bad she wondered. She was dead, alive, a ghost, in limbo? Perhaps this would be only the first part of the journey. She hadn't even been able to say good bye to her cat.<p>

Death looked at down at her, then at his scythe then with his free skeletal hand reached under his clock and removed a what looked to be one of many hourglasses that hung about his middle on the tight belt. This one was emblazoned with her name.  
><em>I THINK THERE HAS BEEN… A MISTAKE.<em>

You mean, I'm not dead? She tried to say. Even though no real words came out, the reaper understood purely on her expression. He'd rare seen it but he'd seen it often enough. He knelt down on bended knee beside her, holding the timer up in front of her so she could see it.

_NOT YET, NO. YOU WERE DYING._ He explained and tapped on the glass again this time to illustrate his point. Inside the top half a few single grains of sand had stubbornly wedged them selves in the next sticking on to the glass, and ironically, clinging for dear life.

_BUT IT SEEMS SOMEONE HAS OTHER PLANS. OTHERS WILL INTERFERE. THEY'VE CHANGED YOUR FATE. I DID WONDER BUT- IT HAPPENS._

The girl was confused. A little "Oh." was all she managed. Those tiny specs where all that was keeping her in the world of the living. She thought she was going to faint, especially the reaper turned her glass upside down and shook it. It glowed like a sunrise for a moment then he righted it some more sand was in the top and began to trickle into the bottom. some of the sand, some of unknown amount of minutes or years where reassigned back to the girl extending her timeline. He turned back to her, a grin

If Death had expected thanks and a smile he was disappointed. Well disappointed wasn't quite the word. Baffled? Yes baffled would do. He'd hardly thought she would miraculously leap to her feet, hug him and invite him to dinner. But fresh tears were falling and not the happy kind. He felt bad. True it was part of the job but this was after giving life back and given time (which she now had,) her wounds would heal. Surly a good thing so why was the girl in such distress? What would a person do in this situation other then hide under a rock? Actually no that was wood lice. People always reassured one another things where going to be okay even if they aren't. He cleared his throat arwkquadly trying to find the right words to say. Or made the skeleton's equivalent of the action and merely say AH-EM loudly.

_THERE, THERE._ He said trying to be comforting and patting her hand. _THERE, THERE IT WILL BE ALRIGHT_.  
>She flinched but took his bony finger, well, bones in her hand and squeezed it and then quickly dropped it again. After a moment, Death stood, straitened up and added the hour glass back to his belt wondering if he ort to leave now (he still had more people to visit and he'd left Binky double parked) but decided against it at least until the girl was found which couldn't be to long now. After all what where a few minutes when you are infinite.<p>

She was still crying although she wouldn't look at him and she'd turned her head as much as she could away from him wiping them away faster then they could fall. Yet she'd had seemed to accept him and the situation before. In fact she almost wanted it and yet there was an edge in her gaze that made her look as if she would have runaway in terror from him if she could walk. It puzzled him how some humans reacted to him like that. Now the witch didn't seem to believe what she was hearing. She'd live. Good news perhaps, but bad news was it already felt like a half life, a cursed life.

_DID YOU WANT TO DIE?_ The question was part curiosity part making sure he'd done the right thing which was also part to ease his mind and part to make sure the girl wasn't going to throw herself down another flight of stairs after wards.

"No." she hissed. "Jusst." Another pause. "Esc-ape." Death nodded. She sighed. In frustration or relief he couldn't tell.

_I feel dead…_Given his own mouth didn't move much, Death was not good at lip reading so read her thoughts instead. Amongst the fears and regrets was one plea, ringing clear as bell in her muddled head.

_Please_

_You'll give me a warning before won't you?… Well, if you're not too busy._

_"Promise- me."_

For along moment he thought about it, then nodded. The girl smiled a small smile, relived and finally slipped into unconsciousness. Not dead. Only sleeping. The voices quite unlike a flock of angels came nearer and just as the door opened, Death took his que to leave...


	2. Middlly bit

Fate did the rest.

The girl would finally open her eyes sometime later only to screw them tightly shut again against the sight of a iratted matron fussing over her and the realization she had indeed been spared, although unsure weather she agreed with nurses' phrasing of "lucky to be alive". She'd would, when recovering in her dorm room, discover via classmate a while after, that a few of the older girls (whose voices she'd heard and mistook for higher beings. They weren't,) had gone to the stores, had found her laid out like sleeping beauty in her own blood and had raised the alarm.

Her form tutor was said to be relived but not concerned, (although she'd seemed to develop short term memory loss making her forget to mention it'd been her who'd sent the child down the steps) and the girl had received a lecture from the head about the dangers of wandering about unaccompanied in darkness on steep steps for no good reason. It was a miracle she recovered so quickly, although the scars refused to fade no matter what normally reliable potions and spells were used. And strangely more kept appearing without explanation unless her tutor had escorted her to the sick bay.

Stranger still the girl's powers and knowledge seemed to increase almost tenfold since her experience. Whether it was because solely down to her first meeting with Death, or her tutors suddenly more strenuous and time consuming regime, challenging and education her at all times she didn't know. All she knew was her powers were kept her under the woman's control.

After the incident she'd tried to tell others what had happened. But it was quickly put down to a mixture imagination and concussion, and the girl was warned it was bad luck to discuss such matters. That logic in mind she kept quiet and also decided against researching him as most books where he made appearance were either bad magic or fairy tales and even then he was always cruel. She thought he'd been rather nice. For a reaper.

But the young witch saw him often enough anyway. She lost track. Once, twice, perhaps up to several meetings a year.

The time for example, when of its own accord, her broomstick had suddenly peaked and then just as suddenly, dropped into a vertical dive despite the girl being an excellent flier. Or the time when a drop of rare illegally sourced and fairly hazard unknown poison had some how made its way into her and her class mates vital organs which her tutor just luckily had the antidote quickly brewed. Or simply when a someone decided a slap on the wrist wasn't enough to make the girl remember by heart a tricky spell, a potion or her manners. When ever she'd been pushed to far the edge, in danger or dropped to hard, he'd appear.

Depending how busy Death was would talk to her and ask questions and perhaps they'd have a civil conversation, other times it would be a shake of the head across the court yard. True none of these times where pleasant, being on the brink of death an all, and few where painless but each meeting he assured her she did have more time when, just not now. Sometimes this was comforting, sometimes it wasn't. Once occasion she'd almost cured him to just get it over with. But it's hard to angry when you know a persons just doing their job, especially if their so polite and friendly and clearly going beyond the lines of duty.

But it would be a very long time before Death kept to his promise of giving the girl her warning…


	3. The end

**I'm sorry for any mistakes in this. I'll fix it someday. Why am I awake at 2:45am writing a fiction that noone's gonna read? Be happy it's the first multi chapter story I've ever completed  
><strong>

As far Miss Hardbroom, the strict potions teacher and deputy head of Cackles Academy was concerned, statistically the third day on the last week of summer term was the worst.

The last question paper handed in five minutes ago, exams where now over which meant the girls where supposed either starting work for the next term or preparing for university if in the final year. However what they where Supposed to be doing and what Hardbroom kept catching them doing where two very different things. Lazing around, gossiping, secret partying; it barely left Constance enough time to finish her marking and that was just Fenella and Griselda. Goodness knows what would happen if they kept their pledge of finishing the term with a bang. They were also a bad influence on the younger girls, who chose this week to play as many pranks as they thought they had the right to get way with which seemed to be an awful lot compared to last year's none.

Why, coming into the staff room she could have swore she'd even heard the sound of hooves on the cobbles out side. Given that Ethel had woken up that morning with a pig for a pillow, the squealing that followed her waking then woke entire castle, Miss Hardbroom had checked outside for the source and scolded herself for being so ridiculous. Horse spells where ridiculously tricky, far too much for even forth years so it couldn't have been a student. She knocked loudly on the door to cupboard assuming Miss Bat was trying out some new attempt at music with coconuts, only to find the door swing open the cupboard empty. Miss Hardbroom frowned. Her mind must be playing tricks on her, rather then her pupils.

To top things off, Morgana her black cat suddenly leapt on to the window sill and greeted her mistress with a soft mew as she climbed though the window the teacher had left open. It was rare her familiar would be so bold as to come to the staffroom as when not out hunting the creature preferred to wait either on Miss Hardbroom's (rarely used) bed or in her study, rather then associate with the riffraff and first year kittens.

"Something really isn't quite right," Miss Hardbroom thought. She then thought she had a million alright several other things to do rather then dallying about thinking about black cats, horsemen, silence and the end of all things.

Popping the cat down a saucer of milk, Miss Hardbroom made a start. She refilled and heated up the urn, arranged time in her schedule for this sudden meeting Mr Hallow had arranged with the staff, zapped the gym-mistress off weights of her chair (alright that didn't technically count as work but it made her feel better) sorting out the mail; binning the junk leaflets, reading the two genuine letters she'd received, binning one replying to the rsvp before binning the other too, counted up the homework books to ensure no one had slipped though yesterdays set task, double checking the rota of teachers duties she'd known off by heart since she'd written it up and after stacking her papers to marked into alphabetical order, Constance made to put away the hour glass in the cupboard for another term.

SNAP…?

Miss Hardbroom felt the voice rather then hear it, as she always had and whipped around to face him so fast she almost lost her balance.

THAT IS THE RIGHT SAYING ISN'T IT? The figure 'said', gesturing to the hour glass she was still holding, WHEN WE HAVE A MATCHING PAIR OR SOMETHING? OR DOES IT ONLY APPLY TO CARDS?

"I- I'm not sure-" The normal composed Hardbroom stammered, sinking in to the nearest chair (one of the headmistress's favourites. She hoped she'd be able to get out of it again,) recovering from the sudden shock. She wasn't used to others appearing from thin air! "Sorry, you startled me. Snap, indeed I suppose... Hello again."

HELLO. I LEFT BINKY AROUND THE BACK IF THAT'S ALRIGHT. Death continued. AND I ASKED A MAN IN OVERALLS WITH A LOT OF CARROTS IN HIS HAND IF HE COULD SPARE ONE. BINKY LIKES CARROTS YOU SEE.

"Yes, yes of course." Miss Hardbroom nodded not really grasping the situation of a snowy white supernatural horse trotting about or that Mr Blossom had just gotten the fright of his life with a skeleton asking for vegetables. The witch hadn't seen Death since late adolescence and was now too busy trying to sort out her mind and now mixed-up-but-still-well-guarded emotions. It was same mixture of Calm and terror she's felt when ever she'd seen him previously, along the same cold but not unpleasant feeling inside that she'd almost missed. Constance wasn't in any immediate danger as she could see and the only pain she had was a headache caused by noisy second years, so it must mean…

"Sorry where are my manners." She said straightening up, getting to her feet she pushed back her fears and looked him in the eye. His after all one of the good guys in her not so fairytale life. "Thank you for coming, sir."

WELL, I LIKE TO KEEP IN TOUCH, THE LITTLE WITCH.

… IS SOMETHING FUNNY CONNIE?

"No Nothing well-" Constance replied, unsure why or where the normally suppressed laughter had suddenly erupted from and put it down to a frayed nerve. "Well actually yes. No ones called me that in almost twenty years. It's quite funny to hear it again."

AH, WELL. Death grinned (as he always did) looking her up and down. He was now only a head, well, skull taller then her. I SUPPOSE YOU ARE A BIT TOO BIG TO BE 'LITTLE WITCH' ANYMORE CONNIE.

"I was as tall as most of my class despite being four years their junior, remember?" Miss Hardbroom smirked, a smidge of pride in her tone.

TRUE. WHAT WOULD YOU PREFER I CALL YOU FROM NOW?

"Miss Hardbroom." Miss Hardbroom automatically replied. "I mean well, just Constance will do."

MISS? WHY BY MISS?

"You did read the sign on the way in didn't you? This is Cackle's academy for young witches. I'm a teacher here. Potions." She smirked. Deaths eyes brightened at this. "-Although I get HB as a nick name from the students when they don't think I can hear it."

HB? Death thought about this. SHOULDN'T IT BE 'CH'? HARDBROOM ISN'T DOUBLE-BARRELLED.

"Perhaps it sounds better? It's certainly stuck." Miss Hardbroom said with a shrug. She didn't hate it just irked her slightly. He nodded and Constance wondered if she should offer him a cup of tea. Did Death drink tea?

YOU SAID ALMOST TWENTY.

"Yes I believe I did."

The Reaper-man tapped his jaw bone thoughtfully.

HOW LONG HAS IT BEEN PRECISELY? I'M AFRAID I LOSE TRACK BETWEEN DECADES.

"Let me see. Roughly Eighteen years seven months three weeks five days and…" Miss Hardbroom rattled off, checking the clock. All this time it'd sat on the mantle piece and she hadn't realised how loudly it tick-tocked till now. "Four hours? Possibly four and a half…

"How is your granddaughter?" she asked suddenly remembering the interesting but uninterested young lady who'd escorted Death on his last visit and again wondered if she'd have gotten on better with the white haired lady if Constance had been able to talk at the time when Death hadn't been her focal point. "Susan wasn't it?" The reaper nodded, "Is she still teaching?"

NO, NANNING AT THE MOMENT I BELIEVE. SHE ISN'T KEEN ON IT. OR JOINING THE FAMILY BUSINESS FOR THAT MATTER BUT IT PAYS BETTER IN THAT AREA. THE NANNING I MEAN. AND YES SHE'S VERY WELL, THANK YOU.

"Jolly good. And yourself?"

BUSY AS ALWAYS THANK YOU.

"Oh, well- that's good for business."

YES, IT IS…HELLO-?

Death looked down Constance followed his gaze. Morgana curled about their ankles meowing uncharsticly loudly with the occasional yowl lobbed in for good measure.

"Morgana, hush. I'm sorry; she's not normally like this-"

IT'S ALRIGHT. HERE PUSS PUSS PUSS. He picked her up, or least, she suddenly appeared in his free arm. SO, YOU KEEP A CAT AS A PET TOO?

"Familiar." Hardbroom corrected. "But yes, Morgana keeps me company."

THE NAME SUITS HER…. NICE KITTY.

"She is and it does rather if I may say so..." Constance agreed giving the bemused sulking cat a little scratch behind the ear, not feeling the chill across her fingers emulating from his aura. "Although the last person to call her 'kitty' lost nearly half a pint of blood."

I'M A SKELETON. Death 'grinned', making Constance inaudibly gulp. I NEITHER HAVE BLOOD NOR AM I A PERSON.

Whether it was funny or not, the convocation dried up quickly. Neither where paerticully good at small talk as the only thing they had in common where cats and wearing black. Also there was little reason to lighten the mood.

I THINK YOU MAY HAVE GUESSED WHY I'M HERE…

"I doubt its good news."

NO. SORRY. He passed Morgana over to her mistress and brushed the cat hairs from his robe and watched as Constance made a fuss over her. He sighed and took a tighter hold of his Scythe in the same official manner as a judge will take up his gravel. For the first time in a long while Constance felt like she was going to cry. She didn't of coarse but took comfort in her cat's soft fur and rumbling purrs, burying a cheek in a brief cuddle before standing straight and tall as the grim reaper started her death sentence.

_I T__HINK IT'S FAIR TO WARN YOU MISS HARDBROOM…THAT YOUR TIME IS RUNNING OUT-_

Constance blinked.

"Only running out?"

YES.

"You mean- I'm not dead yet?"

NOT YET.

"Oh. Very well then." Constance was suddenly aware she'd been subconsciously preparing in her head a long list of what she wanted, wished and needed to do before she died. Marking those exam sheets and arranging a new substitute for next term would have to be her priority. "How long?"

I CANNOT SAY EXACTLY BUT YOU OUGHT TO BE PREPARED. IT'LL BE A LITTLE WHILE YET THOUGH. SEE FOR YOUR SELF.

For the second time, she watched as Death, with his free skeletal hand, reached under his clock and removed one of many hourglasses that hung about his middle on the tight belt. Only this time it was covered in dust looking worse for wear then Constance remembered and all though there was certainly an uneven divide between the two hollows (there was barely an eighth of sand left in the top) the sand was still pouring though at a slow steady pace. This could be seen as neither good nor bad but as Death had no time him self just a continuous present, Constance had no idea what he meant by a little while. It could mean months or minutes.

IT'S BEEN A PLEASURE CONSTANCE-

Miss Hardbroom snorted not believing him and not taking eyes of the sand. Death studied her, curiosious of her reaction. She was a rarity. Normally in this part of the world, witches only fitted into two categories. Those of the stanch traditional solitary spinsters, wise women of the village specialising in specific remedies and potions brought up on a one to one level with old crones and then the academic spell blasting test-driven book collecting defeating evil as extra homework sort on par with wizards on every aspect (although she may have been very insulted if he openly compared her to a wizard) but no, Constance Hardbroom was The best of both. A starch academic traditionalist spell blasting extra homework giving solitary book collecting potion making best of her abilities young spinster. But that wasn't necessarily a good thing

"When?"

SORRY?

"When?" Constance asked again, shaking slightly. Death placed a tentative if sketal hand on her shoulder.

YOU KNOW I CANNOT TELL YOU-

"Not precisely. And don't dare start trying using headology on me." She said setting Morgana down on a chair fixing him with a determined look. "You can't give a specific date I know but according to the Historia of this castles Baron Overblow the second suffered- had a near-Death experience, he claims he encountered you and you told him the season when for him. Well, now for fair treatment, I ask the same."

Death realised he'd been tricked. Anyone else would have deeply regretted doing so. Death simply rolled the lights where his eyes should have been.

I SEE YOU'VE DONE YOUR RESEARCH. BUT HE WASN'T VERY NICE. I ONLY TOLD HIM BECAUSE HE WOULDN'T BE QUIET.

"In that case I'll keep asking. When?" she repeated then added, "If you'd be so kind, please."

VERY WELL IF IT'LL MAKE YOU HAPPY. He shrugged with chuckle; he was getting special treatment after all. I THINK YOU CALL IT THE HOLIDAYS-

"I don't believe in them-" Constance muttered before she could stop herself. She felt very embarrassed as according to ledged Death was known to the myths, demigods and creatures of such festivities but again it was hard to have faith in something that had never been celebrated in childhood so she glad Death brushed off the near insult.

NOT THAT SORT. I MEAN THE BREAK BETWEEN THE SCHOOL TERMS.

"Thank you. But seeing as term ends tomorrow so that's hardly helpful."

SORRY. THE BEST I CAN DO.

"Do you mean the school years or terms?" Death looked at her blankly. "Never mind. Well I suppose it's my own time I'm wasting. And breath I suppose. I should start getting my affairs in order. Would you like to stay for dinner?"

PARDON? AH. NO. Death shook his head well skull as he cottonened on to the witches meaning. MY APOLOGISES CONSTANCE. THERE'S BEEN A MISUNDERSTANDING HERE BETWEEN YOU AND ME.

It was now Miss Hardbroom's turn to look at him blankly. "A misunderstanding…I don't quite follow. You promised-."

PROMISES ARE NOT MADE TO BE BROKEN TRUE AND I WILL STILL COME AND WARN YOU OF YOUR DEATH YES. BUT YOU'VE NO REASON TO FORGET HOW TO LIVE YET.

"So, you mean-" Constance whispered, her voice suddenly wavering as did her hands gestured to the hourglass on the table that isn't- that's Another one? Not mine."

NO NOT YOURS. IT BELONGS TO SOMEONE ELSE.

Relief, then fear swept over her. Not for her but this unknown someone. Guilt joined this fear tieing her stomach in an double knot, making Constance feel physically sick and dizzy. She turned her back on Death, forcing her legs to move and not collase under her but even still the milelong treck only took her too the fireplace.

Confidence and Control, dignighty and decorum, Constance thought gripping the mantle piece. You know everything has to die at some point even those closete to us are not immune. Stop being such coward and listen.

Confidence and control the witch repeated to herself trying to compose her self. She could feel the reapers never blinking, every curious, thugh now slighty worried gaze piecing into her fleash as he glidind towards her. Forcing her self to stay upright. Morgana sencing something wrong lept from chair to chair till she was pawing at the witches dress. When this didn't get the atteniosn the cat turned hissing at Death.

NICE KITTY…? Death said usertainly backing away. Cat's normally liked him but the claws where out now. His leg bone (connected to his hip bone) bumped the comfy chair he fell into it. Morgana seized the opportunity and lept on to his knees, frount paws pinning his robe her face a whisker away from his worried grinning one. Powerful entertiy or not, the walking pack of dem bones had upset her mistress and Death might've ended up with more then claw marks in his robe had the witch not snapped to her sences and scooped up the slashing hairball midsnarl.

"Morgana that is no way for a cat to treat her witch's guests." Constance scowled, holding her at arms length till the slashing of claws stopped swiping then cradled the now less then elegant cat again as though it where her baby, or a comfort blanket.

I'M A GUEST?

Constance glared at him, looking Death right in the eye(sockets). "You came all this way to tell me someone is dieing didn't you?"

YES.

"Well then." the witch snapped "Now, who is the poor soul? And why me? I sincerely hope they aren't the last to know."

I JUST THOUGHT IT MIGHT BE OF INTEREST TO YOU. Death sighed standing up (or at least he was now stood).

"But why? Who is it-?"

I CAN NOT- He started.

"But what who what why Constance dear?" Davina Bat suddenly twittered paying no heed to the towering figure of Death as she unexpectedly entered the staff room, nearly giving Miss Hardbroom the heart attack for a change. "I don't think that Moggy-annie's smart enough to give you an answer but I might be able to help if your stuck on something."

"It's nothing." Constance growled. The chanting woman had the annoying habit of appearing when she was least wanted her around although Miss Hardbroom thanked whatever higher being who cared for not making it either Imogen or Amelia enter the staffroom, let alone a pupil. That would have been embarrassing. "Haven't you got a lesson to run?"

"Well if your going to be like that, I sharen't bother telling you what a wonderfull day it is to be outside gathering ingredents for your boring stuck inside uncreative potions class." Davina brissed then broke in to a sing song happy smile in her unsurprising flighty manner. "Oh it really is a glorious day to be alive Constance! The colors, fresh air! The Movement of the trees!" with this she flung her arms wide and began to dance about with allthe grace of a Fantasia hippo. "If you listen closely you can even hear the singing of the flowers- ah-ha-hahahalala-!" Death watched bemused and received a steely glare when he tried to sway his skull to the complicated tune. Constance ignored them as the woman trilled and warbled about and tryed to think of a suitable and for once delibrate way to send her scurrying away to the cubboard, then realised procimittry wise how close Davina actually was to Death.

"Miss Bat, wait-!" but to late. In her spinning, Davina Bat's hand brushed the grim reapers robes. the little witch felt an icey chill down her spine and froze mid pirouette. Her eyes meet the silver buckle of his middle, black robes as her gaze travelled upwards, past the neck of the hood until she was staring up at the grinning skull of the forth horseman, the end incarnate, the anthropomorphic personification of Death himself.

HELLO.

"H- I- yo- sks sksks-" Miss Hardbroom only realised Davina was stuttering not warming up for a Mongolian self defence chant when the woman gibbered, squeaked then fell into crumpled heap.

"Miss Bat No!" Constance yelped thrusting Morgana into Deaths arms and was at the fellow witches side. "Oh Davina please! Not now- not you- "

She and Davina had never gotten on, but Constance would never have wished her dead. Finding a steady pulse, she calmed down, somewhat surprised to find her cradling the limp torso of the chanting teacher in her lap.

"She's alive." Constance said, still in shock and turned to look at up at Death. "Miss Bat's still alive. She's just- just fainted."

IT HAPPENS. Death shrugged a now purring Morgana in his arms replacing his scythe, although a sword was still at his side. QUITE A LOT ACTUALLY. IS SHE ALRIGHT?

"I think so. For now at least." Miss Hardbroom said, the last bit rather bitterly. She took the old woman's still warm hand in her permanent cool one, shaking her shoulders. "Miss Bat? Davina Bat can you hear me?" Davina groaned and mumbled something about garlic before slipping back into the world of nod, snoring slightly. Constance breathed a sigh of relief and felt a skeletal hand on hers. Death was now at her side.

YOU NEEDN'T WORRY ABOUT MISS BAT. THE TIMER ISN'T HERS AND SHE'S MORE LIFE IN HER THEN MOST HALF HER AGE. As though to emphasise his point, Morgana began pawing at Miss Bat's lace gloves. Death glanced from the fainted witch to the ceiling but Miss Hardbroom got the feeling he was looking beyond the beams, the dorms above, the roof, the stars, the universe, beyond the heavens themselves. NO, DAVINA JESSICA BAT HAS MANY MANY YEARS AHEAD OF HER YET.

"Oh. Good." Constance breathed, sitting the older woman up. "Lying witch, she told us her middle name was Rosaline-Moonflower…"

With a little effort and a touch of magic, a few minutes later the chanting teacher was sat propped her up in the cupboard like a Mongolian ragdoll. Miss Hardbroom shut the door and leaned back against it. The experience had left her more then just shaken and a little out of breath. Death looked down on her, somewhat confused.

"She'll be happier in there." Constance assured him, pushing away the guilt that was now nawing away at her bones, "We'll just convince she's had neverous break down or too much yak's milk." With a flick of her wrist the staff room door locked it's self and a silencing spell was cast around the room. "There. We don't need two more members of staff coming in and collapsing on us." Constance's own words suddenly caused alarm bell to ring in her head and what little colour she had left bar her lipstick drained from her face.

"The hour glass." the words were horse, catching in her throat. "It wouldn't happen to be Amelia's…is it?"

NO. MISS CACKLE WILL BE FINE.

Constance relaxed slightly, about half a percentage. Losing someone would be hard enough, to lose Amelia, the woman she looked as more then the head teacher but perhaps a sister a mother she'd never had and the certainly nearest thing she could compare to having a friend, she wouldn't know how to cope.

In the stillness of the moment, a little whiskery figure appered in the skirting board, it's skeletal snout sniffing the air. The Death of Rats (mices, voles, shrews, hamsters and other small mammels of the rodent varity) was a more regular if discret vistiour to the school then Death himself. it sniffed the air and adjusting it's little robe, it disided it was safe, edged out toward the door. As a skeletal rat however, it lacked the ten times stonger then a dogs sence of smell it's living brethern had. Not to mention Morgana's keen eyesight and cat's can see death. Normally they just ignored the little reaper and let get on with his job but now Miss Bat was in the cupboard she had nothing to do other a quick game of cat and mouse.

"Must we continue this guessing game? I don't like being toyed with." Miss Hardbroom said, oblivious to her cat's antics and stepping back in to no nosence teacher tatics. "You show up, tell me some poor soul is going to die but that's it? Not a specific when or a who? Even Miss Bat and her tea leaves could have told me that."

Had she always been this bossy? Not that he minded, it was …refreshing. She really did remind him of Susan.

SHE SEEMS TO BE A LITTLE UNCONSCIOUS AT THE MOMENT. He pointed out. Miss Hardbroom ignored that bit.

"Is it Miss Drill's? She can a little reckless on her sports and with her bike. I keep telling her she'll have an accident if she's not careful but she never listens-"

IT'S NOT HERS EITHER Death answered. NOR THE HANDYMAN'S OR THE COOK'S.

"Oh. Well, good," HB said baffled she'd been pre-empted (but not admitting she'd been hoping Death wouldn't have said yes regarding any of the three irritating non-witch members of staff.)

BUT IT WON'T BE AN ACCIDENT I'M AFRAID.

"what then? Illness? Old age? Suicide?…Murder?" Death didn't answer. Constance swallowed. "Do they know? Do they know they are dieing? As I said before I really hope you haven't left them out the loop?"

THEY'VE A VAGUE IDEA YES. AND AS I SAID A LITTLE WHILE. Constance cursed under her breath. She had a quick mind but it was struggling to find a way around Death. looking around the room insearch of inspiration her gaze fell To the top of the papers. The students. The exams. Her two priories in life .There where so often now aday tragic stories and reports in the news of children ending it all because they'd fallen though the net in the educational system.

"Please," the teacher started. "if it's one of the girls… "

WHO SAID IT WAS 'ONE OF THE GIRLS'?

"You didn't say it wasn't. Well. Isn't it? Yes or no?"

WHAT IF IT WERE?

Many people plow though choclate boxes untill they are sick to their secondary stomachs and regret ever opening the first blasted wrapper. Constance didn't let such temptuious things like a toffee centered truffle pass her lips but she felt the queasy rotting ache normally accioated gluttonoes habits now weighing her down hanging aroung her throat. When she spoke again, her words where clear and well thought out, but she still choked on them.

"When we first meet, you said I was meant to go, but others interfered. now Iam asking you, I am begging you take me instead- let me interfear."

I CAN NOT DO THAT NOR CAN I ALLOW YOU TO DO SO.

"And I can not stand idly by after you've informed me of what's to happen!" HB spat back "Nor can I allow you to continue."

I AM JUST DOING MY JOB.

"As am I! I have a duty of care to my pupils and the reputaion of the school, and there is no way on earth I can willingly let you take one of our girls!"

ONE- Death paused. -OF YOUR GIRLS?

"Our girls or any member of cackles academy for young witches." Constance hissed, filled with pride, sorrow and rage. "Take my life instead, it means nothing if it'll save a parent or fellow student from grieving."

IT IS NOT FOR YOU TO DECIDE-

"Then I'll fight you for her!" Death looked at her, surprised. Her teeth where gritted Red sparks where itching at he fingers. "You heard me. Yes I know it's ridiculously stupid yet plently of people have gambled with you in the past and according to the stories some of them even won. Most of the cheat obviously but if that is what it takes then consider this a formal call to arms. Well?"

Well what could he say? Death considered this for a very very long moment.

YOU WOULD CHALLENGE ME? He asked. CURSING YOU OWN SOUL IN FRUITLESS BATTLE ATTEMPTING TO SAVE THE LIFE OF A STUDENT? EVEN ONE YOU DESPISED?

"Despised might be going to far." Constance muttered, trying to think positively about a certain second year, rather then her bad behaviour. "But yes. I would. Even for Mildred Hubble."

FASCINATING

"What?"

DESPITE EVERYTHING YOU WHERE MOULDED INTO, EVERY THING THAT A TEACHER EVER DID TO YOU, YOU BECOME ONE.

STRANGER STILL YOU ACTULLY CARE FOR YOUR PUPILS, YOUR GIRLS. AND THAT YOU WOULD SACRIFICE YOURSELF? FASINATING-

"It isn't fansinating at all, it's duty, just what any oter human would do!" Constance yelled, alost screamed at him. "I've done what was right to the best of my abbilytys but now you will not save a childs life

Where's the justice in that!

THERE'S NO JUSTICE. THERE'S JUST ME…

In that sentence He towered over her, sythe a whisper from her face and the world seemed to jolt halting for a dark second at his word. Lightening craused tough the clears sky, young witches shuddered for no reason other then their nerves on edge. Morgana even stopped chasing the sketal rat, mid pounce.

Constance, was numb. Her legs, like iron ramrods that had held her upright gave way and she crumpled to her knees. hiccupping sobs escaping no thurther then her hand that covered her face, swiping away the tears untill she was to exasted to carry on. but She'd failed. What was the point if she couldn't protect others? who was she if she couldn't carry out her role as a teacher? just a pathetic witch who'd got lucky half a life time a go and guilted into a erred he probably found trivail but was probably to polite to say so and she'd now insulted him to add another feather in her cap. She owed him nothing after all and was very much indebt to him and this was how she addressed the situation, with threats of violence?

I AM SORRY FOR YOUR LOSS. THERE THERE. IT'S ALRIGHT.

"no it isn't." she said bitterly. "…Why did you come here, I would have been better off not knowing."

The fact Death was still there surprised her but not as much as the feeling of being pulled to her feet. Embarried, Constance couldn't look at him. a lock of her hair had come loose from the strain of maneul labour from earlier. Taking what humans called pity on her, Death brushed it back behind her ear, his finger bones tracing her stong jaw tipping the witches head up to face him and wondered if she was what they meant by a pretty cryier.

PERHAPS YOU'RE RIGHT. I CAME BECAUSE I THOUGH IT'D BE OF INTEREST TO YOU-

His next words broke her heart.

BECAUSE YOU WISHED HER AWAY. SHE WASN'T WHAT YOU WANTED IN A PLACE OF LEARNING…

Mildred. .

YOU DIDN'T WANT HER LEADING YOUNGER WITCHES ASTRAY,

Mildred Hubble.

THOSE CLASSES YOU SAT THERE, HATING HER…WANTING HER DEAD AT ONE POINT.

"No. no." she said weakly, passion still in her eyes. "You can't- I mean. Please, don't.

THE RULES MISS HARDBROOM. I CAN AND I MUST. I THOUGHT IT WOULD MEAN SOME CLOSURE.

"I take it all everything back. She's a wonderful innocent-" Death raside a eyebrow as best he could. "Not Mildred."

NOT MILDRED INDEED…YOU DIDN'T REALLY LET ME FINISH. he said the cold hand on her shoulder. I AM SORRY MY LITTLE WITCH I DID NOT MEAN TO TOY WITH YOU TO THIS EXTENT. Death seemed smaller now. IT IS NOT A CHILD I CAME TO TELL YOU OFTHERE AGAIN HAS BEEN A MISUNDERSTANDING BETWEEN US….

YOUR GIRLS WILL BE FINE.

Miss Hardbroom could only gape at him, her hands covering her mouth with tears threating to esape again, to stunned to do or say anything sensible. Other then-

"You ab-solute-"

SORRY. AND ENOUGH GAMES. AS I SAID MISS HARDBROOM- CONNIE, I CANNOT TELL YOU WHEN OR WHO, DIRECTLY OR EXACTLY. BUT THE RULES DO NOT SAY I CAN NOT SHOW YOU. I DID AFTER ALL I BELIEVE SAID, "SEE FOR YOUR SELF" DIDN'T I?

There seemed to be something like irony or mirth in his 'voice' but Constance was to weak to tell him off for that, let alone knock his skull off stringing her along even if it was unintentional. The reaper adjusted his robe and stood back, inviting the witch's gaze to the hour glass she'd almost forgotten he'd placed on the table. Shakily the little witch picked it up, cold metal on cold skin bringing it up to her eye level and wiping the thick dust from the plate revealing the poor souls name underneath.

…as a 'Mistress Hecketty Broomhead.' One time personal tutor to Death's Acquaintance.


End file.
